My Words, My World

First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing

Archive for the tag “tea”

Damage Limitation

The crack appeared; tiny, hairline; barely noticeable.  The scalding liquid started to spread upwards towards the crack, seeking, soaking and finally seeping into it, weakening it; the weight becoming too much to bear.  I watched, unsure of my next move.  Speed was the only way to avoid total destruction.  Damage limitation they call it.  I had no option, I couldn’t just sit there, impartial, unwilling.  I breathed in, preparing to move.  My hand shook and the liquid still rose and seeped in.  It was too late.  Whatever I did now would have consequences. The silence of the room waited with me in anticipation.

 

With a hot splash the biscuit, my last Digestive, fell into my tea.

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A Time for Tea

“Does one ever learn to trust again after that trust has been abused and rejected?”  She was in one of her post-relationship moods.

“The matter of trust hangs on a knife-edge”, he said, sat squarely on the fence.

“I know that”, she replied, “I have been stabbed, deeply.”

“We live in fields of blades”, he sighed.

“Now you are being pessimist,” she retorted. “I think in the end our choices lead us to these fields you refer to as being filled with blades, or could they be filled roses?”

“Both may cut and scratch you.  Many times we sow the seeds of our own crop of blades”, he said.  “Others, unfortunately, wander too into these fields, time and again”.

“So we have experiences to avoid revisiting?”

“Sometimes it’s impossible to avoid wandering in,” he said, offering some comfort.  “From a distance these fields look beautiful, only once your inside do you realize the swaying, green stalks are really chrome blades, chopping.”

“Then the experience one had is defective as he still needs to learn further lessons.  He shall wander into these fields until he learns,” she sighed, despair creeping in.

“It’s not defective; unless you call hope a defect.  It’s hope that brings one again to the field.”

With relief that was tangible.  “Therefore I am doomed to wander the rough-made footpath and stray back into hurt, cuts and pain.  However seeing you start this conversation with pessimism and ending with a flirtation with optimism gives me strength to walk once more.”  She was warming to the idea.

“I never started a pessimist, as I have never looked upon this subject with pessimism.  Even blades have their uses, but only while they remain sharp.”  He responded, as pragmatic as ever.

“The only useful blunt utensil is a spoon,” she replied.

They exchanged glances.  He got up and put the kettle on.

 

What’s for dinner? Darned if I know…

Friday morning crisis – friends for dinner tomorrow. He’s a chef, she’s a restaurant manager. Theme? Italian? No, because they are and it would be like trying to show ME how to make a cup of tea (or pour a Weissbier). Mexican? No-one likes it as spicy as I do – I AM the Jalopeno Kid. Indian – way too heavy. Then, an idea…

Greek / Eastern Mediterranean – different, appetizing and good. Trouble is lamb is the staple and in Switzerland (don’t ask me why) finding lamb is like finding a sober judge.

I shall consult the good girlfriend when she wakes up…

It’s Friday, people!!!

Transient Crap

So here I am in southern Switzerland.  The sun is out, the sky is blue and I’m at home with the flu – yes I know it’s not the Buddy Holly lyric but it’ll do.

Is it an excuse not to write?  No.  It does however make thinking a little harder, rational decision making a little more difficult and something I had in the pipeline may now stay there a few more days as I can’t conclude it.  BUT, it is the reason this new page has appeared on my blog.  Till now, I’ve not used it as a “social” thing, i.e. talking with you, if, of course anyone’s out there.

The books tell us to just get words down on paper, irrespective of grammatical error, spelling mistake or, God  forbid, use passive tense.  Well, in my mini-mire of flu-induced writer’s (HaHa!!) block, I decided my blog needed “Transient Crap” under my home page.  Even if I can’t get down what’s in my head, I can still get down what’s ready to come out of my mouth – very often not the same thing.

With this non-thought, I’ll make myself a cup of tea.

C.

Tea Soup

A cup of tea

Yorkshire tea, aye

Will become a soup

If left to lie

 

If left to lie

Cool down, stagnate

No more my thirst

Shall it slake

 

On the balcony

It was left to lie

Whilst between jobs

Did I

 

Go to an fro

As a bee

And forget about

My cup of tea

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